


Another Chance (The Complete Honesty Remix)

by laireshi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Fix-It of Sorts, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Remix, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-23 05:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13780824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: Steve and Tony talk about what happened in Siberia. The only issue? Steve's under the influence of truth serum, and Tony's forced to accept his answers.





	Another Chance (The Complete Honesty Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FestiveFerret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Always Honest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13165461) by [FestiveFerret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret). 
  * In response to a prompt by [FestiveFerret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret) in the [Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness_2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness_2018) collection. 



> FestiveFerret's original is SO GOOD, be sure to read it. Thanks to magicasen for beta!
> 
> This takes place during some imagined Infinity War timeline. No spoilers here.

In retrospect, It happened lightning-fast, but in the moment it felt like an eternity.

Strange had passed Clint two bottles— _elixirs_ , he’d said, and Tony knew now magic was real and still hated the fact. Even from the other side of the room, Tony could see one of them was almost shining, seemingly moving inside the bottle. Clint clearly thought it curious too, because he shook it, a second before Strange said, “It’s highly volatile.”

And it was. The top of the bottle fell off, and a stream of pink liquid flew at Steve. He covered his face, so it only splattered on his hand and arm, and then stood very, very still.

They all froze, staring at Steve, waiting for _something_ to happen, for Steve to disappear or change into a tentacle monster. Tony really hated magic.

“What was that?” Natasha finally asked.

“Nothing dangerous,” Strange said. “Truth serum. Are you keeping many secrets, Captain?”

Steve winced. He very visibly tried to keep his mouth shut, but to no avail. “Not anymore,” he finally said through gritted teeth.

Tony closed his eyes and tried to keep his breathing even.

“I’m sorry,” Clint said, and Tony waited for Steve to say, _It’s okay_ , except he didn’t.

Truth serum, huh. 

“Interesting,” Strange said. “It should wear out in a few hours, maybe faster with your physiology, but . . .” He tilted his head. Tony could see him preparing to ask more, keep poking, because Strange was very much like Tony used to be, and while a small, petty part of him wanted to let Strange talk, well. 

“Let him be,” he said the moment Strange opened his mouth again.

Tony very carefully kept his eyes off Steve’s face, but he could still see him in his peripheral vision, turning to face Tony. 

“Tony,” Steve said, as if surprised. 

_Mr Stark would do just fine_ , Tony thought and didn’t say. _Iron Man_ , even better. Not something _familiar_. Not something that _a friend_ would call him. Suddenly, he was sure this was too much. He couldn’t do it. Talking strategy was one thing. They had a planet to save. This, here? This just evolved into something Tony wanted no part in anymore. Not ever, and definitely not with others watching.

He wanted to leave, but it would seem like he was running away, and he was stronger than that. So he just raised his chin slightly. “Yes, Rogers?”

Steve flinched. Tony wondered if he could fake his body language, right now, or if it was real. Could he lie while writing? It was obvious he couldn’t just stop himself answering a question. _Not your problem, Stark_ , Tony told himself firmly.

Steve was looking straight at him, and Tony could no longer avoid his gaze without being obvious. He reminded himself the armour was just a thought away and met Steve’s eyes for the first time since Siberia.

The lighting here was better, brighter. Steve’s eyes were very, very blue, lacking the greyish tint they had in the dim and frozen Soviet base. It was more like that day when Tony had tried to say good bye to the Avengers, only for Steve to say, _I’ll miss you_ ; three words that kept Tony near him.

It was dangerous.

“Can we talk?” Steve asked.

Right, that didn’t sound foreboding at all.

“Is it possible you missed how that’s the worst conversation opener ever?” Tony asked.

Steve frowned briefly. “Oh—I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

 _He’s honest_ , Tony had to remind himself. He really is. “What the hell,” he said to himself. “Yeah, let’s talk. We can’t make it worse, can we?”

He meant for it to be rhetorical, but Steve sighed as he said, “We can.”

“Guys.” Natasha’s voice held Tony in place. “You sure this is a good idea? Now? With the truth serum and Thanos?”

“Exactly while the serum’s working on me,” Steve said. He walked out of the room first.

“We’ll be fine,” Tony said, as he _could_ actually lie. He knew Natasha would see right through him, but maybe Clint or Strange wouldn’t. 

Call him a masochist, but if Steve wanted to talk to him under the influence of a truth serum, then Tony wanted to listen. And he _was_ a scientist, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity for answers.

(Hope had nothing to do with it, because there was nothing to hope for. That got buried deep down in Siberia, frozen ten times over by now.)

Steve led them to a spare room down the corridor, where—at least currently—no one was planning action against Thanos. They went inside in silence. Steve closed the door, and Tony realised they really _were_ alone now. He couldn’t stop his hand raising to touch his chest; the sudden memory of pain was too much. Steve followed his movement.

“I’m sorry,” he said, carefully.

“Well, that serum wore off awfully fast, guess I should go tell Stephen to check on his formula—” Tony turned to the door.

“No, Tony, wait!” Steve caught him by his wrist. Tony stopped, immediately, and hated himself for it.

Steve wouldn’t hurt him. They’d moved on. It was fine. 

“I still can’t lie,” Steve said. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you now. So that you know I’m honest. I know you have all the reasons not to trust me, but this way, you’ll know I’m not lying.”

Tony nodded, not looking at him, and carefully extracted his wrist from Steve’s grip. “Okay,” he said. “What’s my current workshop password?”

Steve looked at him confused. He opened his mouth, hesitated. “34-44-54-64,” he said, finally, and then he frowned, and added, “I wanted to say I didn’t know. But . . . _Tony_? You must’ve changed it, you—”

“Nu-uh,” Tony said. “Okay, the serum is working.”

Which wasn’t what Tony hoped for, because not only did Steve now know that Tony couldn’t have brought himself to change the access password, but also his apology was _real_.

“You’re sorry?” Tony made sure.

“Yes.”

“I probably _shouldn’t_ be asking you questions right now, you know. You don’t get control over what you’re saying, it’s not fair to you.” Tony wasn’t sure why he cared. It’s not as if Steve had been _fair_ to him.

Steve didn’t budge. “I _want_ you to ask. Please.”

Okay, Tony could do that, open all the wounds anew, that sounded fun. “The alien threat that I’d foreseen and no one believed me about it—that alien threat is here, and you want to do this,” Tony said.

“Tony,” Steve said, “you’re not stupid. We need to be able to function. And I want you to hear the truth. Really.”

Tony nodded. What the hell, he thought, and asked, “What are you sorry about? And _don’t_ tell me I sound like a kindergarten teacher.”

Steve looked somewhere to Tony’s left, definitely not at his face anymore. “That I lost you, mostly.”

“You’ve never had me, Rogers,” Tony snapped. And that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? You can’t just break up with someone with whom you weren’t in a relationship.

But it felt like that.

“I know,” Steve said, his voice steady in the artificial manner that meant he was controlling it really, really well. “But we had _something_. Something good. Something growing into more. And now . . .”

“You gave up being an Avenger and you became a fugitive and that’s what you’re sorry about?” Tony asked. He _needed_ to make sure.

“Yes,” Steve all but whispered.

“Fuck, Steve,” Tony said. “ _Why_ didn’t you tell me?” 

Steve put his hand to his mouth to stop himself talking. It’d be hilarious, if the context was different. “ _Tell you what_?” Steve asked after a few moments, clearly fighting for every word.

As if the serum tried to make him say something else.

“So there is another secret between us,” Tony said.

“Yes,” Steve admitted, defeated. “It’s—it’s not a bad thing, Tony.”

Tony considered that. “I’ll leave it for now,” he said. “My parents. Why didn’t you tell me?” God, even asking that hurt.

Steve looked away. “I—I didn’t really think. I know I’m supposed to be the strategist, but I panicked. I don’t know. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never thought this would happen.”

 _Didn’t think_. Tony felt his patience snapping.

“None of us do!” Tony yelled. “That’s why you tell your teammates things! Isn’t that what you said when Ultron was trying to kill us all?”

That, and _together_ , but Tony wasn’t touching that.

“It was. I’m sorry,” Steve repeated.

“You’re maddening, do you—” Tony cut himself off, he didn’t actually want Steve to answer rhetorical questions. “I’d never have guessed you could say you missed me and mean it. That you were really sorry. But I’m not sure what it changes at this point.”

“I know,” Steve whispered. “I wanted to tell you. I—I didn’t want to tell you. I was looking for Bucky. I was ashamed. I—”

“Steve,” Tony said. “I’m not proud of my reaction if Siberia, either. I wasn’t thinking there and then. But do you _really think_ that if I hadn’t been surprised that your brainwashed best buddy killed—what he did, that if you told me that _in time_ instead, do you think I would’ve tracked him down myself to kill him?”If that was what Steve thought of him, then it _hurt_. 

“No,” Steve said immediately. “I don’t know. I didn’t want you to know. I did think it was better that way.”

Tony felt the urge to hit something. “They were my parents, Steve, of fucking course I wanted to know!”

“I know I hurt you,” Steve said. “That wasn’t my intention, but I’m not talking about the intentions here. I hurt you, and I apologise.” He hesitated. “I don’t regret stopping you, there. Bucky is innocent.”

Tony nodded tiredly. “Yes, brainwashing, I know.” And he did. He _was_ glad Steve stopped him. Hurting Barnes wouldn’t help. Steve was right: it wouldn’t change what happened. But Tony still wouldn’t work with Barnes. He _couldn’t_. And it hurt, how obvious Steve had made it that Tony just wasn’t important.

Of course, now, forced to be honest, Steve was saying Tony did matter.

“You were my friend,” Steve said. “More than that. I didn’t want for Bucky to get hurt, but even if it wasn’t him—I couldn’t let you become a murderer.”

 _More than that_ , but not enough to ever tell Tony the truth. Not enough to make it seem like he cared for Tony and not just his past.

Tony laughed bitterly. “I am a murderer, Steve. My weapons—”

“Your weapons _aren’t_ you,” Steve cut in. He looked Tony over, extended a hand as if to touch and stopped himself before he could do that. “ _That_ , I regret. That I fought you so hard. That . . .” His eyes stopped at the new reactor shining brightly in Tony’s chest.

Tony shrugged. It was hard to stop Iron Man, even if he hadn’t been fighting at his own 100%. So his heart gave out, again, so what? The shrapnel that had made it so fragile in the first place was of Tony’s making. (As if Tony hadn’t waken up from nightmares of Steve shattering every new reactor after that, too. He pushed the memories away. His dreams were just that, dreams, nothing real.)

And Steve clearly wanted to make amends, here.

Tony suspected that was the most he could count for. He wasn’t sure if he felt better—but he didn’t feel worse. And in the long run, it might help, knowing what Steve thought.

If they survived Thanos first.

Tony tilted his head. “You’re still okay with being asked questions?”

“Yes,” Steve said.

There’s a war going on, Tony thought. They all liked to hide injuries. “Are you okay, physically speaking?”

“Yeah, I flew straight from Wakanda. Their science is something else.”

So Tony heard. He couldn’t wait to see. 

But now, Tony sighed. “Okay. Let’s say there was something between us. Let’s say I miss it too.”

The look Steve was giving him was almost hopeful.

“Do you think it won’t end in another disaster?” Tony knew he sounded afraid, but he couldn’t help it.

“I don’t know,” Steve said almost immediately. “I think it’s better to try than to regret.”

Tony wasn’t so sure. Would it have hurt less, in Siberia, had Steve been a stranger? 

Of course.

Did Tony want him to be a stranger?

No.

 _Dangerous_ , he reminded himself.

“And that last secret you’re keeping from me; is it important to me or the team?” Tony asked finally.

Steve closed his eyes. “Yes.”

Tony steeled himself for another wave of pain. “Tell me,” he said. It wasn’t okay. He was asking for something personal. But Steve had known that was a possibility when he let Tony ask him questions. He didn’t ask Tony to avoid any topic. And the last time Steve had kept secrets, it had come back to bite them in the middle of a mission.

This was precaution, and Tony was the team leader.

This was not hope.

Steve stepped closer to Tony. “I . . .” He took another step and ended up right next to him, as if the concept of personal space was lost on him. Tony looked at him, standing way too close, almost close enough for Tony to feel his body heat, and didn’t step away. He waited. Whatever it was—it was important.

“I love you, Tony Stark,” Steve said.

Tony almost _wanted_ to believe that whatever Steve meant to say, that wasn’t it. That the serum ran its course. That there was something else, so big that saying _that_ was the better option.

But he knew that truth serum or no, Steve was honest in this moment. It was in his eyes, in the way he was breathing just a bit too fast, in the way he was ever so slightly leaning into Tony.

 _Fuck_.

Tony should’ve known better than to talk to him. He knew this story. He knew it ended in heartbreak. He knew he should say _no_ and be done with it.

But he couldn’t control his own body and the wave of joy he felt. It took all he had not to say, “ _Me too”_ immediately. 

Because that was why he’d never changed his access codes and why the betrayal in Siberia had really hurt so much: he’d fallen for Steve long before Lagos, and now, weeks later, he still couldn’t hate him. 

“What do you want to do about it?” Tony whispered.

Steve smiled sadly. “Ideally? Hear it back. I’d like to kiss you, but only if you want it. I’d like for us to try again. I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I just want another chance, for both of us. We both made mistakes.”

“We did,” Tony acknowledged. For a while they looked at each other. Then Steve sighed.

“Look—I didn’t expect you to say anything. I hoped for it, but didn’t _expect_ it. _Please_ don’t lie to make me feel better, and just—let’s save the world?” Steve asked miserably.

“No,” Tony said. He loved Steve, but he couldn’t say that yet. He needed time for that step. But he could do something else. “I think you should kiss me first.”

Steve looked at him with disbelief. 

“You _have_ kissed people before, Rogers, don’t play shy—”

Tony couldn’t finish talking. Steve was on him, kissing him with everything he had, and it was wonderful and just a bit overwhelming and nothing like Tony’s imagination, but better. Real. It wasn’t an easy kiss, none of them wanting to yield, but it wasn’t like anything about them was easy, either. 

Finally, Tony stepped back. “I can’t forgive you,” he admitted. “Not just yet. But I want to try again. I want to do it right this time. I want it so much.”

Steve was staring at him. Tony poked him under his collarbone, playfully. “Now, can you kiss me again, or—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Steve spoke so fast it was barely understandable, and then his hands were on both sides of Tony’s face and they were kissing again.

Siberia wrecked them, but they found something to salvage from the ruins.

Maybe, just maybe, they could make good of it.


End file.
